


The Next Right Thing

by Vesuvian_American



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24708985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesuvian_American/pseuds/Vesuvian_American
Summary: I listened to "The Next Right Thing" from Frozen II while righting this, so consider this fic a Disney Prompt.Something urges Asra to return to Vesuvia to check on his friends. Be it his nightmares or the unsettling feeling in his gut. He needs to go home and see you. Will he be able to survive after what he finds?
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana)
Kudos: 15





	The Next Right Thing

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't reread to check for any spelling errors or bad grammar so if it's bad please ignore it lol. This is my first writing after a long time, be nice!

Something had shifted. It was an oddly cool day in Nepal. Asra awoke that morning from the strangest dream. Unbearable heat swallowing him up, nowhere to run. He was overcome with sadness, a grief he couldn’t escape. Longing, mistakes he felt he couldn’t correct. Then nothing. Silence, everything was still for what felt like an eternity all until a blood curdling scream in the distance shook him awake and he fell from the comfort of his bed. His heart felt heavy. He couldn’t imagine falling back asleep. He made sure to travel into town right then to find the source of that scream. Yet, there too it was silent, nothing out of place nothing out of the ordinary. The townsfolk were safe and all accounted for, all except for Asra himself. Deep in his gut he felt something was off, he felt uneasy. Like he’d lost something very dear to him but he couldn’t imagine what that dream meant. For the days after that he never felt better. Still he feared sleeping. The dreams were different now. He just felt a complete and utter emptiness, he wondered if this is what death felt like. Each night the dreams slightly changed, a soft crying sound growing louder and louder. His last night in Nepal the crying in his dreams turned into a loud disturbing wailing so loud he couldn’t fall asleep for even a second or the wailing would start again. If nothing was wrong in Nepal maybe it was--- 

It was time to return to Vesuvia. By time he made it to the forest a dark storm cloud was over head. Thunder rumbled in the distance as he entered Muriel’s hut. Empty, but the magical wards overhead were charged and working properly, Muriel was safe. “He’s probably out looking for firewood, Faust.” Asra gives his familiar a wry smile as her cool scales slither over his shoulder. “Let’s head to the shop and check on our friend.” Friend. It had been a long time since Asra saw you. You both had argued on whether to stay in Vesuvia or run away from the plague. How were you doing, where you safe? Did you actually find a cure? He thought. Something in his heart told him that wasn’t the case. But he fought off the negative thoughts, He just wanted to see you and hold you close. Apologize for everything, apologize for leaving you alone here. He should have been stronger than his fear. The fear never escaped him even as he left. He was safe but you weren't. His anxiety ate him up inside while he hid in Nepal. Never did a day go by where he didn’t think about you, and miss you. He still loved you, he just needed to come back and right all his wrong and. What's this? No magical shield on the door? Protective charms, most likely Muriel’s, left in a pile on the doorstep never picked up. His heart sank but he swallowed his fear and lifted his shaky hand to the door handle. The door was chilly, the inside felt still. He trembled so hard the door started to shake as well. He twisted the handle and the darkness from inside his shop spilled out. He stayed there; eyes closed with the door cracked open for a long moment. It was only the rain drops that finally started to fall over the city dropping on his head that urged him forward and into the shop. 

Using magic, he gave himself some light. A thin layer of dust covered the shop. Books and paperwork with scribbled writing littered the floors and counter tops. Your handwriting. Ilya’s handwriting. The tiniest bit of relief washed over him. You probably moved into the palace to work with the other doctors on the cure. No. That was wrong too, he had to investigate more. He travelled upstairs to check your shared bedroom. Nothing here. In the kitchenette, there was a small pitter patter sound. Not the rain but like—CRASH! A dish falls from the cabinet, knocked off but by what. He peers inside and finds the stove salamander. Very thin, very frail and dull in color, looking sickly. He scoops them up in his hands and finds him something to eat. You would never neglect the salamander. If you headed to the palace, you’d take them with you of course. Leaving Faust and the salamander in the kitchen to snack and rest he rushed into the bedroom, ripping the pillows and the blankets from the bed. He had to find something, anything that would tell him where you were. What happened! Shaking he finally sees it. A single note. It’s your handwriting but messier than he remembers as if you had no energy to write. 

“Dearest Asra, 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. For not leaving with you. I felt my duty was here to Vesuvia, to find a cure, to save our home. I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t smart enough. I wasn’t fast enough. I’m sick. Very sick. Muriel doesn’t know, he still visits the front door but I haven't gone downstairs in days. You need each other to live through this. If you read this don’t stay. Run back to Nepal. Take Muriel. Take anybody that’s still healthy and leave. I hope to be some of the last few to be lost due to the plague. Please for me, stay away. I don’t have much energy left to do anything. I don’t know what day it is, what month, what year. All I know is you, Muriel, Julian. The poor citizens of Vesuvia, and our home. This letter will be the last thing I do. I’m using everything I have to get all my thoughts, wishes, and love into this letter for you. A piece of me hopes you never find it, at least not until Vesuvia is saved again. I don’t want you to come back here to get sick. Please don’t go any further. Turn back to Nepal with Muriel and Faust. 

I will love you always.” 

You tried to finish off with your name but had no energy at all to continue. The worst can be assumed. Asra cried. He screamed. He ran. He didn’t stop until he was at the docks, begging for it to not be true. He cries turned to choked sobs. He was out of breath and energy. He slept there for who knows how long. Muffled footsteps walked to him and sat by his side. They stayed silent, and Asra felt back asleep without any regard for who was by him. Muriel looked down to his friend with puffy eyes, red from tears he shed himself. Seeing his best friend like this broke him. He made sure to stay there for his friend. Whenever he was ready to wake up and face his fears. He’s be there for him no matter what he decided to do. He’d follow him and protect him from any more grief and anguish. Asra was his everything. Muriel was going to be there to help him stand up and get through this and live, just as you wanted. “I feel numb.” Asra’s voice was weak and hoarse. Muriel said nothing, this was time for Asra to speak and out his feelings into words. “I’ve seen dark before, but not like this.” He rolls onto his back to look up at his friend. He recognized it was Muriel a long time ago. “How.. How could this happen, Muriel?” A tear shed down Muriel’s face, and he turned his head and grunted in response. Asra saw him trembling. “What are we going to do?” Asra sounded so pitiful. Broken. Muriel wanted to hold him and shield him from these feelings while ignoring his own. Just as he started to warm up to you and consider you someone worth getting to know. You die. “How am I supposed to go on?” Asra whimpers looking up the stars. He reaches his hand out as if to grasp a time where you were still alive and tangible, and here with him. Muriel glances back at his friend, this bottom lip wobbling as he fights back the unshed tears in his eyes. He curls in on himself tighter than before. Pulling his knees closer into his chest and wrapping his cloak around him even more. He lets out a shaky breath and hides his face, he can’t fight these feelings anymore. He finally lets the tears falls, albeit hidden from his closet friend. Asra lets his hand fall into the sand, kicking up dust and clouding his senses for a moment. Yet, in that moment everything was made clear to him. For the first time in days he sees your smiling face clearly, this wasn’t a memory. It was the future. He’d have you back. Nothing will be the same with you gone. As the dust settles you image falls away as well, but stays locked in his mind. He stands up, weakly but the look on his face is strong. 

“Let’s go Muriel. Y/N needs us.” He turns back to his friend and holds his hand out, putting on a brave face for Muriel, giving him a weary smile. Muriel then lifts his head and takes Asra’s hand. Wiping the tears from his eyes he sees Asra heading for a boat. They’re headed to the Lazaret.


End file.
